Ishbal: A soldiers story
by Gallant
Summary: Follow a young Corporal on his journey through the streets of Ishbal early in the conflict there.
1. Technical Information

Technical Note:

I sat down to write this story two years ago. I had just enlisted in the Canadian Armed Forces at the time. Some of the quotes and feelings in this story are taken from my experiences as a soldier, (although an automotive accident forced me from the military sooner than I would have liked to leave.) During the battles in the story, a reader may find him/her self confused at times. This was done intentionally on my part, because battles are by nature very confusing things. I did my best to keep the weapons in this story limited to what was seen throughout the series, however poetic license was taken in order to keep the battles from becoming nothing more than ranged engagements. Most combat deaths are caused by indirect fire, and artillery. These are weapons that spawn little glory on a battlefield, yet they are key to any offensive action. The individual rifleman plays a very small role, as it is usually the artillery, and the machinegun that makes a battle decisive. In all reality, an engagement of company scale (90-160 men) is almost undoubtedly decided by the support weapons. Full Metal Alchemist does little to compliment these tactics, so in order for the engagements to make sense in my eyes, I had to add them. You will find that mortars are used to a large extent early in the story. For those of you who don't know, a mortar is an infantry support weapon, which in many ways resembles a light artillery gun. It fires the projectile on an indirect trajectory into the air. It then falls straight down from the sky. Some mortars are fitted with a barometer capable of exploding the shell above the ground (airburst), which maximizes casualties, however airbursts do not play a role in this story. You will also come across the standard issue "Central City" rifle. I have given it a name, since none was provided in the story. I called it the SAR 14. SAR stands for Semi-Automatic Rifle, and 14 is the model number. I based it on the American M-14 rifle, because I felt that's what it most resembled (I felt it was too long to be an M1A1, M2, or M3 Carbine, despite the magazine size). The various machineguns were based on Maxim design. I have enclosed links to photographs of the real life counterparts. In chapter four, you will come across the 20mm cannon. All sides used 20mm cannons extensively during the Second World War. They were primarily an anti-aircraft gun, and many aircraft had these guns mounted on them both for attacking four engine bombers, and soft (wood buildings, light trains, jeeps, trucks, infantry) ground targets. The German military was forced to press them into ground use, and they proved devastating against infantry, because the shells, 1/3rd larger than .50 caliber shells exploded on impact. They fired quickly, and the sound they generated was extremely intimidating. The sub machineguns used in the story were present throughout the actual series, and no adjustments were made, and I found no need to name this weapon, as it isn't used extensively. The 152mm artillery pieces really have nothing special about them. For those who don't know, they are large field guns, with extremely long range (maximum effective range is generally around 18 kilometers, although this number varies a great deal). Below, as stated are some pictures. Should you need anything else cleared up, please let me know.

82mm Mortar:

http/ (SAR-14)

http/static.justgamers.de/1/1861/gui/images/content/waffen/m14.jpg

Maxim Machinegun:

http/198.144.2.125/MG42/FULL/Maxim20MG.jpg

20mm Cannon:

http/www.quarry. http/ mount, as in the story)

152mm Gun:

http/ 


	2. Part One: Policing Action

Ishbal: A Soldiers Story  
Part One: Policing Action  
By Ken Gallant  
  
The train jerked foreword as it came to an abrupt halt. Bright red light shone through the windows, illuminating the station. It was pitch black. It shouldn't' have been dark for another hour or two, but the military was burning tires around the station. I put on my deep blue hat, which matched my immaculate uniform. Many of the other soldiers were interrogating each other in regards to our location. I kept my mouth shut, we would be told soon enough. It was better not to waste our energy, because if this were Ishbal, it would certainly be a long night. I let my eyes roll into the back of my head, and threw my head back onto the cushion at the top of my seat. I heard the door open, and felt a cool gust of air on my face. I inhaled it, but to my dismay, it smelled horrible. I assumed it was from the tires. There was silence among those on board now. Finally, they would have their answers. I heard some voices coming from the platform, too distant to make out. Then the sound of worn boots ascending the rubber lined steel stairs leading to the passenger compartment. I opened my eyes, and sat up. Before us stood an unknown Colonel. His breast full of campaign ribbons, and various medals. Naturally, we stood up at attention. A frazzled Lieutenant trotted in front of the Colonel. He handed him our platoon roster, and they exchanged some muffled words before he took his place at the Colonels right hand. The Colonel stood up as straight as an arrow.  
  
"Soldiers, at ease!" he bellowed. I happily adopted a more comfortable, yet still tense stance. "You are about to embark upon a great crusade. A crusade in which some of you may not return. However, you have the best equipment, the best training, the best discipline, and the most professional officers, and NCOs showing you the righteous path." He looked from side to side as he spoke, catching each of us in the eye, making sure we were following his every word. "Your mission is simple; you must maintain peace in this society, at any cost. However, it is important to remember, this is not a war, this is a policing action. You do not have the right to kill needlessly. Your duty is to maintain peace, not bring about conflict. Conflict must be avoided. By firing on the citizens of this city of Ishbal, you are failing your primary objective." He clenched his fist, and held it against his chest. "We did not train you to fail, we trained you to succeed. For this campaign, you will be known as E for Echo Company, Fourth Platoon..." the colonel glanced at the roster. "Of the 608th Foot Regiment. Your platoon leaders will take over from here. I have faith in you, and your success in this campaign. That is all."  
  
With that, the colonel turned to the Lieutenant, again they spoke some muffled words, and then strode down the stairs onto the platform. The Lieutenant turned to face us, still a little frazzled. "Uh, men..." he spoke in a very quiet, almost shy voice. I severely doubted his confidence. "I'm Lieutenant Hanley, but you can go ahead and call me LT, or Hanley, or Craig. I guess I'm supposed to break you up into sections or something, let me see here..." he pulled a notebook out of his right breast pocket, and flipped through it. "Yes, I'm supposed to break you into three sections, of ten. Um, which of you are Corporals?"  
  
I raised my hand "Sir!" Rockwell and Mackenzie followed suit. The Lieutenant had a puzzled look on his face. "Sir!" I decided this was a good time to speak up. "Sir, we already have our sections." He looked more cheerful.  
  
"Well, in that case I guess you can all get off the train, and pick your weapons up. Your sergeants are waiting on the platform with your weapons. In addition, I will be briefing them on what we have to do this evening, so go see your sergeants for your weapons down on the platform, and then I will talk to them. I already said that, didn't I? Well it does not matter, carry on. Uh, DISMISSED!"  
  
As we filed off the train, I felt a tug at my sleeve. It was my friend Leoni. He was a good foot taller than I was, and the vast majority of the rest of the platoon. He was tall, and well built. His uniform fit poorly. I remembered when he had it issued to him, the clerks just couldn't' find anything to fit him. He was just too big. "Heya Taybor, this sounds like a snap. We're just playing policeman."  
  
"I'm not too sure." I replied, "They're burning tires, probably to conceal us from sniper fire on the platform. I'm not even too sure the Colonel knows what the hell is going on."  
  
"Well he must know better than the Lieutenant. He has some issues. I don't' know how he made it through Officer Training."  
  
We climbed down the steps onto the platform. Through the smoke, I saw a black figure marching towards me. "Corporal Taybor! Corporal Taybor!" A scared up sergeant stepped through the haze. "Are you Corporal Taybor?"  
  
"Yes Sergeant!" I shouted back. "Most of my section is still on the train Sergeant; I will proceeded to prepare them for your briefing as soon as they are assembled!"  
  
"No need Corporal. We have an easy job today, recon up some back streets. You, me, and two men of your choosing. The rest will be taken by Sergeant Harris over there to their barracks." He motioned to another smoke covered black figure, who was now ordering platoon after platoon to fall in to the left of the platform. "Pick your two, and lets get out of this smoke. Meet me on the northeast corner of this building in five minutes. You might want to bring some weapons along; this ain't no ice cream social."  
  
"Well." I turned to Leoni, "You ready for some action?" Grab Cage and head to the Sergeant, I'll go get us some weapons."  
  
"Yes Corporal Taybor." He gave me a mocking two-finger salute.  
  
I slipped on my dust mask. The smoke was getting to me, I wasn't sure why I didn't do that beforehand. When I reached the amenities office inside the station, I requisitioned three standard rifles, the SAR 14, some semi- automatic pistols, and a submachine gun. I packed a bag full of grenades also, just in case. It was completely against regulation, but my biggest fear was running out of ammunition. This way I wouldn't have to worry as much.  
  
I slipped the bag onto my shoulders, and grabbed a dolly to carry the other weapons on. When I arrived at the northeast corner of the building, I saw Cage and Leoni standing with the mysterious sergeant. "Good work Corporal." the Sergeant pulled a rifle off the dolly, and snapped the bolt back examining it closely. He shoved a round into the breach, and then placed the magazine into it's respective place. "See Corporal, I've just modified the standard SAR 14 rifle. It is now capable of firing a 16th round before reload. During lulls in combat, I suggest you do the same." I could tell he was mocking me, just by the words he used. Modified? Standard SAR 14? Maybe he was just very 'by the book.' Regardless, we did as we were told.  
  
"What should we address you as Sergeant?" I asked him in a passive voice.  
  
"Well son, you can call me grandpa. I find it makes you green soldiers feel better about yourselves, even if it's not regulation. However, if an officer hears, you will be in a world of shit. Do you understand?"  
  
"Ye-ye-yes Grandpa." I stuttered, I didn't' expect his response to be as it was. I slung the submachine gun under my arm, and held my rifle across my chest, pushing the butt hard into my shoulder. This, like the rest of my platoon, would be my first time in a hostile environment.  
  
We stepped out of the thick black smoke, and were greeted by the now setting sun, and a steady breeze, throwing sand and dust into our faces and eyes. The area was relatively built up; the architecture was different from that of Central, but the buildings just as glamorous. From the stories I heard of Ishbal as a kid, I expected it to be a barbarian settlement. Our soldiers had only been "Policing" these streets for three days, yet already some buildings were in complete ruin. Windows had been shot out, and the smell of decaying flesh filled my lungs. War was not the romantic vision I had as a recruit; I knew that on first glimpse.  
  
Grandpa selected me to take point, most likely because I decided to carry the submachine gun. It was impossible to walk down main streets in small groups explained Grandpa, snipers were everywhere. So we took too alleys. The alleys seemed deserted, but of course, I felt as if I was being watched. I could see that I was being watched.. Every hundred meters I saw a muzzle of a rifle sticking our of a window. They drew back in as we got close. I raised my forearm at a ninety degree angle, and made a fist. This was the signal to stop. Cage and Leoni dropped to their knees, scanning all the windows in front of us, and then behind. I turned around, and Grandpa was right in my face, with a puzzled look.  
  
"What is it?" he asked me.  
  
"They're tracking our movements; can't you see them pulling away from the windows?" I was very concerned. "I don't think it's safe to continue."  
  
"They always do that." He reassured me. "They just like to watch. Our firepower is too great to take on, so they try to scare us away in this exact manner."  
  
I got back onto my feet, feeling no better than I did before. This was my first time out. How could Grandpa expect me to just ignore people pointing guns at me? I turned around once more.  
  
"But they've got guns Grandpa." I felt very silly calling him that.  
  
"Well." he replied, "So have we."  
  
The Colonel had lied to us. This was no Policing action, this was suppression. The people here were terrified of us. But what did the Colonel have to gain from lying in the first place? Why the hell do I keep questioning things? It's not my job to question, it's my job to listen, and except what we were told as truth. What would the Fuhrer think if he knew that his soldiers were questioning his officers?  
  
Reluctantly I kept moving foreword. I kept my head a little lower this time. About an hour after we set out, it was quite dark, so Grandpa told us we should start heading back. I was calmer in the dark. The city was quiet, and the air cool. Even if we were being watched, I would not know, as I couldn't see into the second and third story windows. Then I realized something. There were no lights in these buildings. In fact, the only light cast on us, was from the small lamp Cage was holding, and the dim moon. I begin to worry again. We could be pulled into any open door, and sliced to pieces before we even had time to react. Quietly I fixed my bayonet to my rifle. Onwards, and onwards through the maze of alleys we pressed. I could hear the station, the chaos of new soldiers still flooding off trains. We were getting close. The sky was brighter here, from the fires, which covered the station and platform with a thick blanket of smoke. I began walking faster and faster towards my destination. Then someone grabbed me by the back of the collar. I panicked and shoved my bayonet straight back into whatever had me. However, they sidestepped it, I felt my arm being pulled back. I fumbled my rifle, and it fell to the ground. I knew I was going to die.  
  
"What in the holy hell are you trying to do Taybor?" whispered Grandpa. "Damn it son, you have to be more careful. Ease up a little; you almost put me on an instant weight loss plan. It's great that you're cautious, but at least identify your target before you take it out, alright?" I felt like a complete idiot. I was excessively tense. My training had taught me better, but I always felt as if it would never apply to me. I felt so brave, enlisting in the military, I thought I would be the kind of soldier who picked up the heavy machinegun, and fired it from his hip while pinned down squad members crawled to safety. "I was trying to get your attention to tell you, we aren't going back to the station, we're going to the barracks, it's about a kilometre north of the station, and since we are northeast of the station, that means the barracks is four blocks to the west." I still lay in his arm, staring at him blankly. "Do I need to shoot you in the leg, and have an orderly carry you back on a stretcher?" I got up quickly.  
  
"No Sergeant, I'm fine. Just a little stunned, and tired." He said nothing, put pointed to the west. I regained my composure, and pressed on. I could hear Leoni snickering behind me. I'm sure this won't be the last I hear of this incident. 


	3. Part Two: Bismallah Street

Part Two: Bismallah Street

The sun rose the next day, like any other. Somehow, I managed to make it though the first night without being killed. "Leoni lets grab some breakfast." The food was terrible, but I was too hungry to care.

"Sure thing, let me finish lacing up these bastard boots, and I'll be right there." He looked up and smiled. I put on my hat, grabbed my rifle, and stood by the door. Leoni stood up, picked up his equipment, and walked towards me. "What do you reckon it'll be today?"

"Same crap, powdered eggs, powdered milk, powdered coffee, maybe some bacon." I felt less hungry.

"Not breakfast, I meant our recon. Do you think they'll send us out again?" We stopped walking; I turned and looked at him.

"Well, that's our job, ain't it? I just hope we're back before dark this time." I turned to continue down the hallway.

"Yeah, we wouldn't want another incident like last night, would we?" He snickered. I elbowed him in the gut, but he laughed it off as usual. He stopped dead again. "Remember when we were kids? All we did was play soldiers. It was so much fun blowing the hell out of each other. I think those have to be my fondest memories."

I looked up at him. "I was thinking about that yesterday, when we were in the city. In many ways, it was the same. The only difference was the fear." I looked down at the ground. "You were scared too, weren't you?"

"Me? Nah, you know my philosophy. We all end up dead, all that matters is how and why. I would rather die for something, than for myself, old and decrepit."

"Yeah... that's how I thought I felt too. However, when I had point, I could see the muzzles pointing down the street at me. They could have taken me any time they wanted to. And that's it man. You take a hit out here, and you are done. Even if its' in the leg, dust gets in there, infection sets in. Or you can get it in an artery, and bleed to death in a minute."

"Well, wouldn't' the heat of the bullet seal most of the wound up? I mean, that's what we were taught." He looked down on me. "You worry too much."

"I'm just being cautious man. I don't' know why we're even here. It's a total waste of funding. The state alchemists could clear this problem up in a matter of hours. Do you have any idea how much it costs to keep us out here? Even with the crap they feed us?"

"Nope, and I don't' care. That's politics; I try to stay detached from politics as much as possible. I wish they would just give me something to shoot." He chuckled. "I could care less who the Fuhrer is, or what he wants, all I'm here for is action, and money. After this is over, I want a pension too. Then I can retire, and get a real job."

I hated this side of him. I knew he cared as much as I did, but he wouldn't show it. "I was reading this book once. And it said 'We few, we happy few. We band of brothers. For he who sheds his blood with me today will never be vile.' What do you think it means?"

"What's vile?" he looked at me earnestly.

"Go to hell Leoni." We laughed together for a while.

After breakfast, we assembled with the rest of our company in what used to be a community hall. The Colonel from the train gave us our briefing for the day. It was very straight foreword. Bismallah Street, six kilometres northeast was what we suspected to be the rebel's HQ. Our mission was to surround it, and make sure nothing went sour. I hated this boring guard duty crap; we had drilled on this repeatedly during our training. It sounded safer than recon at least.

Two hours later, we neared the objective. Walking up the avenues of the city was indeed a great feeling. There were over a hundred of us, so I had nothing to worry about at all. The sound of the marching was incredible, and to a people like the Ishbal, I'm sure they had never seen such a structured and impressive force. And this was just a pittance of our militaries power. A single company. I kept my head foreword to look as professional as possible. Had I bothered too look around, I would have seen nothing but hatred on the faces of the locals. Their red eyes full of fury. Alchemy was deeply hated by them, but treasured by us. It was more than a political campaign; it was biased on religious belief. They believed that man shouldn't change what God created, and we believed... well we believed in domination, and knowledge.

We marched up Bismallah Street, and at the head of the company, a captain started shouting out where various sections would be stationed for the day. A company from the 7th Infantry had been patrolling all night, so various entrenchments were set up at chokepoints. The captain had my section take control of a small house. A family dwelling. An upstairs window had been fortified the night before, and a machinegun was mounted there. Leoni got all excited at the prospect of fully automatic weapons, so I sent him, and private Caan to operate it. The dwelling was completely deserted. I expected the residents had been forced out. Across the street was a building that looked important. Two Ishbali guards, armed with rifles were standing in front of the door. I sat down on the stoop, placed my rifle on my lap, and my pack of grenades in easy reach. Krauss sat down next to me.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I think that's the Ishbali headquarters for this area. Fancy us being right across the street from the objective. We'll be cut to pieces of anything happens." I looked over at Krauss, who had a terrified look on his face. I rethought my last statement. "I'm only screwing with you. They couldn't' hit the broad side of a barn with those bolt-action rifles. We'd have a hundred rounds off before they raised them to their shoulders." I was lying through my teeth. Command wouldn't waste a company on such an objective if it wasn't dangerous. Krauss grinned, and looked quite overconfident. I on the other hand knew exactly why we were stationed here. If the shit hit the fan, we were here so the people of Ishbal had someone to shoot. An hour and a half later, Leoni came downstairs. I sent Krauss upstairs to take over his position on the machinegun.

"Taybor." He said. "Why are we here?"  
  
"Well, I suspect we're here as a deterrent. The same reason they have guards over there." I pointed to the Ishbal guards across the street, which shot back a horrible look.

"I'm bored man, and looking around, it seems as if I'm not the only one. I wanna shoot something man. That's what I joined this army for." He stood up and held his rifle across his chest. I heard him place the safety off, but said nothing. I knew him too well, he wouldn't' do anything wrong unless seriously provoked. All talk no action.

I decided this was a good time to inspect the rest of the section, which were spread out between various windows. When I reached the top floor, checked on Krauss and Caan. Something was wrong though. The headquarters across the street was full of commotion, I could hear shouting, and banging. Not gunshots, just the sound of doors slamming. Utter chaos. I quickly charged my weapon and ran down the stairs to where Leoni was now up on his knee, pointing his rifle across the street. Up and down the street, other soldiers were beginning to panic, as more and more took cover behind whatever they could find. "What's going on man?" I could hear stress in Leoni's voice.

"I don't know, just stay cool. Don't move, and don't shoot anyone." I turned around and shouted to address my entire section. "Be cautious! Don't shoot anything unless it fires first!" About eight steps away, Günter knelt with his rifle propped up on the window. He was shaking really badly. Somehow, I managed to stay cool. I grabbed my sack of grenades, and removed the magazine from my rifle. I slid a 16th round into the chamber, and charged it again.

There was a bright flash of light from an upper level window across the street. Less than a second later the house I was in shook. I hit the deck as Leoni opened fire, spraying the two guards standing in front of the headquarters. Gunfire erupted from every opening, of every building in range. I heard the electronic sounding zip of bullets smashing through the sound barrier over my head. Leoni crawled inside and leaned next to the doorframe to the right of the opening. I now had a full view of the outside. I could see burned body parts of Caan and Krauss lying on the street below their window. The machinegun just on the other side of their remains. "They've got a rocket propelled grenade Leoni, get to the back of the building or we're all dead!" The house shook again, and Günter exploded, along with the wall he was behind. Bits of him were thrown all over the room. I stopped functioning as a whole. This wasn't happening to me. I was just a boy, not a soldier. I was too special to die like this. Leoni smacked me in the side of the head.

"Taybor, I'm going to get that machinegun. Cover me!" He charged out the front door. I couldn't say anything, or act. I was frozen with shock. Leoni braced himself on the gravel street, and hoisted the machinegun up fearlessly. He opened fire on the headquarters. The rounds pierced through the thin wood and clay structure and for a moment, it seemed as if he might be suppressing them.

"Leoni, get back here!" I shouted, finally composing myself. "Get back here you bastard!" It was futile; he couldn't hear me over the noise of his gun. I watched as a round flew out of his back, obviously having flown straight through him. I screamed. It wasn't a recognizable word, just a scream. I started firing my weapon blindly out the door. Leoni still managed to keep himself up, and was going hard, blowing out window after window with his cannon. I wondered if he even realized he'd been hit.

Our soldiers rushed the headquarters, tossing in hand grenades. Their uniforms were no longer a deep blue, but red, or brown, from blood and dirt. Leoni collapsed as two medics reached him and pulled the machinegun off his quivering body. I pulled my stomach off the ground, and knelt in the doorway. I looked over at the place where Günter once sat. Turning my head back, I just managed to see a third story window on the headquarters swing open. The muzzle of a submachine gun came into view, but I couldn't access my rifle in time. It sprayed the street in front of me. Leoni, the medics, cut to pieces. I saw a flash from the same window, and the building shook violently again. I heard the support beams break up. I didn't even think about trying to get out. What was the point? I watched as the roof fell and then my world went black.


	4. Part Three: Out of the Frying Pan, Into ...

Part Three: Out of the Frying Pan, Into the fire.

I woke up to the sound of incoming mortar rounds. I kept my eyes closed, and just listened to them remould the ancient city. Opening my eyes and realizing that I was incapacitated was a greater fear than catching shrapnel from the incoming rounds. First, I wiggled my toes, no spinal damage. The mortars still crashed around me. I wiggled my fingers, and realized that I still had them. I assumed that my head was attached, so my eyelids slowly peeled back, but I soon realized that it made no difference at all. I was either blind, or in complete darkness. The concrete foundation I was lying on did my aching muscles no mercy. I slowly slipped back into the dream world, the sound of the mortars lulling me to sleep.

Something soft brushed up against my arm, and instantly I was awake and alert. I opened my eyes, but they were still useless. The mortars had stopped; probably just long enough for the crews to cool the tubes off. I rolled over onto my stomach, worried that I might suffocate on my own vomit should I lose consciousness again. The soft organism brushed against the side of my head, and to make my life more enjoyable, it reeked of urine. Or maybe that was me. I tugged my sidearm out of its holster, with my right hand, and pushed it across the floor, pointing the barrel in the general direction of the creature. Keeping the pistol braced against the ground, I squeezed the trigger. Three very eventful things happened at this point. Firstly, the soft organism exploded all over me. Secondly, the shock from the pistol going off blew my right eardrum, I felt ear fluid leak down the side of my face. Finally, the stray bullet ricochets off the concrete foundation, and through the 'ceiling', which brought in a little light. For the first time, I knew I wasn't blind. My body was in so much pain, and I felt so weak, my ear seemed as if it didn't really hurt at all. So I went back to sleep.

I woke up coughing and hacking, every contraction and expansion of my chest felt as if I was being stabbed in the spine. My fit lasted a few minutes and more than once I considered turning my pistol on myself. When it finally stopped, I decided I had suffered enough, and it was high time to try to find out where I was, and how I could escape. The mortars had started again, crashing all around me. I assumed it sounded worse than it actually was, because my ear was pressed against the concrete floor, which I now realized was not concrete at all, but stone. Not that it really mattered. I rolled over onto my side; with my left shoulder now pointed at the 'ceiling' and I outstretched my left arm in an attempt to see how high exactly the 'ceiling' was. When my fingers met it, about a foot and a half from my shoulder, a fine dust fell from it, and onto my face. I rolled, or rather fell back onto my stomach, and crawled towards the pinnacle of light I had created with my sidearm. When I reached it, once more I rolled over, this time onto my back, and let the light shine onto my face. It took several minutes for my eyes to adjust to the strong natural light. I could see the bright blue sky over my head, and it took me a while to realize how exactly that was possible. A large portion of the building had obviously fallen sideways when the rockets hit it. The mortars would have done some more cleaning, which meant I was only under one layer of rubble, something manageable. All I needed now was the energy to begin my dig to safety, and the mind frame to face the battlefield again.

I woke up once more to the sound of thunder. My mind assumed it was mortars, but I quickly realized it was thunder when I noticed water running down my face. My legs propelled me another few inches, so water draining through the hole in the ceiling ran into my mouth. I drank, realizing it might be the last chance for water I would have down here. Rain was rare in Ishbal; their God must be smiling on me for some reason to bring it now, when I most needed it. I felt very calm; in fact, I realized that ever since I found myself down here, I had been calmer than when I was on the surface. Maybe it had to do with the fact, that I had seen what I believed were the worst actions the human race was capable of. I had nothing but surreal memories, and emotions I could not put into words. Nothing, not even my own death could trouble my mind after what I had seen on Bismallah Street.

Leoni's death was a blur. As far as my conscience mind was concerned, it never really happened. I kept expecting him to crawl out of the darkness, with some satirical remark on the situation I was in. I did my best to concentrate on getting to the surface. I thought it was well past time to begin digging. I reached for my grenade belt, and then realized that it probably was not the best idea to open the floor that way. Then a brilliant idea struck me. I directed my sidearm again towards the ceiling, and squeezed the trigger about a foot to the left of the hole that already existed. I fired a second shot between the two previous holes. I rolled my feet up, so my knees lay flat against my chest, and forced my feet against the weakened area. The boards cracked along with most of my bones. I let my feet fall back down and just lie there in the most extreme pain I had felt since the ordeal started. Five minutes later, I did it again, only this time, the boards separated. After I overcame my brief incapacitation once more, I gave the ceiling a final kick. I thought it split enough this time to admit my hand to slip between the boards. I decided to take one more long rest, to compose my mind before I ventured into the rubble that once made a happy home for countless locals.

When I opened my eyes again, the rain had stopped, and faint light now filtered through the split boards. I slipped my hand through the opening, and then my forearm up until my elbow. I felt a cool breeze on it, a moist breeze. Similar to those I felt as a child across my face, after a great storm. I tore the boards apart utilizing both hands, and my utility knife. After ten minutes of work, I was able to force my head out of the hole and look around. The well-established street that once existed was now nothing more than heaps of charred wood on top of smashed foundations of twisted steel frame, and concrete. I slowly crawled out onto my belly, across the blackened wood floor. I was careful not to stand on my feet, afraid it would collapse below me. I did not feel as if my battered body could take the fall. There was no sign of life anywhere I looked. One could safely assume that heavy motor bombardments would drive people from their homes, especially ones built as cheaply as these. It was getting dark, and I was quite positive that friendly patrols would be doing a recce mission in attempt to capture surviving, but injured enemy civilians for questioning. It was standard procedure after a bombardment. I crawled to the edge of the building that just a moment before I was trapped under. I found the foundation, and stood up comfortably for the first time in... now that I thought about it, I had no sense of how long I had been trapped.

I sat on the concrete stoop, and once again found myself staring towards the place where the Ishbal headquarters once stood. It was the building with the strongest foundation on the street; however, I am sure the mortar teams zeroed right in on it. There was virtually nothing left. I picked myself off the ground, and walked over to headquarters foundation slowly. The sun was setting fast, and I had to find myself a decent weapon incase the people of Ishbal found be before my comrades did. The wooden structure of the building had completely burned off, leaving only the shattered concrete basement. I lowered myself down into a room full of steel crates, black from being exposed to smoke and flame. They were locked, but I picked up a steel rod and began to pry at a flimsy padlock. It broke without much effort, and I heaved at the lid, which crumbled and chipped in my hands. I discovered what I had been searching for. I picked up an enemy weapon, the butt had burned right off, and by the looks of the inside of the box, flame had mingled freely with the insides. I tossed the rifle aside, and discovered a steel submachine gun. Ishbal's weapons were originally produced for our militaries use. The only difference was, our military replaced these old models several decades ago. I reached under my once blue jacket into my bandoleer, and pulled out a single bullet for my sidearm. It fit snugly into the chamber of the ancient weapon. After filling the current magazine, and two others, I slung the submachine gun over my shoulder, and climbed back out of the foundation. At that point I decided to begin the long march back to friendly lines.


	5. Part Four: Where the Hell are the Guns?

Part Four: Where the Hell are the Guns?

The battle caught up to me far faster than I had hoped. Less than twenty five minutes later I could hear distant gunfire. It became louder and louder as I neared it. I walked cautiously through alleyways, with my body pressed against wall after wall, house after house. Now and then I could hear Ishbal's loyal militia units moving down the main streets to the front lines. When I heard them, I ducked into dumpsters, making sure my weapon was cocked. I could take two or three of them before they got to me. Of that, I was sure. My uniform was completely in tatters, so I shed my jacket. My skin was exposed to the hot dry air. The dusty air tortured the hundreds of small cuts all over my body. I slung my blue jacket over my shoulder. After it had slid off a few times, I decided to tie it around my waist. Several minutes later I knew I had to be near the train station I had arrived at. The gunfire was so intense all around me, I began to panic, knowing I would be unable to fight in my condition.

I was three city blocks from the train station. Mortars were falling all around me. Heavy machinegun fire erupted from the buildings around me. I could hear trains arriving on mass. Things had obviously gone badly. I hadn't run into a single friendly patrol. The people of Ishbal were obviously overconfident in their victory, having pushed us back so far. They failed to realize that heavy reserves were held back, and were now, by the sounds of it arriving at the station. Company after company would arrive. An entire division would be committed if needed.

I ducked into a dumpster. Running out into the middle of a firefight would make short work of me. I decided to wait until nightfall, then I could sneak through the front line. The battle raged on without me. I tucked my head against my chest. A stray mortar shell would tear the thin steel dumpster to pieces. I tried to sleep, but the gunshots rang in my ears. I tried to reply the previous day's events in my mind, but I couldn't seem to put everything together. The pain of my broken eardrum kept my eyes open. The machinegun fire died down as the sky grew darker. The Ishbali militia had little in the way of tracer bullets, or spotlights. An assault at night would result in a one sided slaughter. I lifted the lid on the dumpster and rolled over the top back into the alley. I crept on my knees, knowing that the militias had probably tripled patrols now that the front line had quieted down. I'd be tortured to death for information that I didn't have if I were captured. I heard muffled footsteps coming towards me. I pitched my body up against the wall, and readied my weapon. As they came closer, I heard whispered voices. They spoke familiar words in a western accent. I was about to be rescued. I spoke quietly, "Corporal Taybor, 608th Foot!" I was quickly overwhelmed from all sides, and forced to the ground. I felt a sharp pain in the back of my skull, and drifted back into unconsciousness.

I woke up not long after I had been knocked out. I could tell, the air felt the same of my face. Cold and frigid. Nights in Ishbal contrasted the days a great deal. Hot dry days, cold frigid nights. I opened my eyes and found myself in a field hospital. I could hear the trains closer than ever. I realized where I had been taken. I tried to sit up, but I was quickly pushed down again. "Hold on Corporal, don't move, we're still checking you out." I saw the face of a doctor. "You took an awful blow to the head, those 22nd boys sure can be rough. You can understand though, they didn't want to take any chances in the dark." I tried to reply but I couldn't force any words out. The doctor smiled at me. "Don't try to talk, we've got you drugged up something else. Try to sleep a few hours more, those drugs wear off fast. It's a good thing too; it looks like you'll be back on the line in the morning." I rolled my eyes back into my head, and closed them gently. The drugs brought sleep quickly.

The same doctor awakened me before daybreak. His black hair glistened with sweat. "Corporal Taybor is it?"

"Corporal Taybor, 608th Foot." I replied. The drug had obviously worn off.

"I've got someone here who wants to speak with you, are you coherent?" The doctor's voice became very firm, and he looked directly into my eyes.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Who was it that wanted to speak with me?" I lifted my head and glanced around, but my neck was almost too stiff to move. I could see a familiar face, yet I could not put my finger on just who it was.

"Corporal Taybor is it? I heard you came back from Bismallah Street almost in one piece. I just came to see how you were doing." Lieutenant Hanley spoke far more firmly than he had before. I imagine he spent the entire day with a rifle, sending platoon after platoon into the fray. That would toughen a man up fairly quickly.

"I'm doing fine sir, just stiff is all." I spoke the truth, I could barely move.

"Can you tell me what happened out there? You're the first one back. The militias cut all the communication lines between this station, and our outposts. We're blacked out, and for some reason, our artillery still hasn't showed up. Every mortar team we had deployed in the field has been captured for all we know. It won't take long for those bastards to figure out how to use them. The foothold we have here at the station isn't big enough to hold off a mortar barrage for long." He started to speak quickly; he obviously had little control over what he was saying. He was just speaking his mind, getting all of his frustration out. "We lost at least six companies today. It seems as though the came out from underground. That's why the streets are so quiet, they are moving through a tunnel network. Probably the old sewer system. If we just had some heavy artillery. If we had our guns we could pound the streets, and cave in the sewers. Artillery, or alchemy. Either way, we need to block those sewers. I suppose what I needed to ask you was, did you find any entrances while you were out there?"

I rolled my eyes back into my skull again, and thought deeply. "The objective. Bismallah Street. The headquarters. When the mortars started in on the position they must have gone somewhere." I thought hard, trying to recall every moment. "First they must have tried to reinforce it. Then they withdrew." I did recall seeing their numbers fluctuate. "They cut everybody to pieces. Our own weapons… rockets… machineguns. They cut everyone to pieces. Then the house fell down." I had a hard time recollecting everything out loud. I felt it was strange that I was not overcome with emotion. "There must have been an entrance in the headquarters. The foundation was strong. I just got out of there."

"It's okay corporal. You did just fine. Get some more rest, you're going to be very busy in the morning." The Lieutenant looked back towards the doctor. "Will he be fit enough to move at daybreak?"

"It's doubtful. He will need a couple of days to recover properly." The doctor seemed very concerned. Almost as though he didn't want his hard work put to waste.

"Hopefully our trucks can be unloaded from the trains by then. Hell, hopefully our guns have showed up by then." The Lieutenant turned to leave. "Rest up Taybor. By the way, congratulations, you're a Sergeant now."

The doctor's head hovered over me again. "Did you hear that, they must really be short of experienced men. You better rest up, it looks like they're sending you out again."

I cringed. Nothing could be said, nothing could be done. I didn't want any more responsibility; I just wanted to be sent home. My injuries were severe enough. I just wanted to go home. Things didn't appear to be going my way. Or had they? It appeared as if I was the only one saved. Everyone was dead, Leoni, right before my eyes. He died the way he always wanted to. He held the line to the very end. I couldn't have done it. I could barely react. All I wanted to do was sleep. I didn't want to think anymore. I didn't want to think about what happened. I just wanted to sleep, and go home.

Sleep didn't come to me again. I was issued a new uniform showing my new rank, and another rifle was thrust into my hands. I slid a 16th round into the chamber and stepped out of the field hospital. "Sergeant Taybor!" The Lieutenant shouted. "Saddle up, we're moving out ASAP. You're with me. Our armored trucks arrived in the night. Still no guns. You know what that means?" I looked out towards the battered street in front of the station. "We're taking the tunnels Sergeant. We are taking them with what we have." He smiled a bit when he saw my reaction.

I strode towards Hanley, my rifle slung over my shoulder. "And my platoon?" I was weary to take command of more men.

"You won't be leading a platoon Sergeant. I want you no more than two meters from me at all times. You're going to be my advisor." We started walking towards the waiting trucks.

"But sir, I really don't know anything, I mean, I didn't see anything. I'm sure you have a better understanding of the situation than I do." It was a strange request. He knew that I knew very little.

"You're good luck Sergeant. You came back. Hopefully you'll do it again. For some reason, God smiled on you, so you're coming with me. Maybe some of it will rub off. I just got this command, and I'm not about to die and lose it all!" We stopped next to one of the waiting trucks. I counted seven in all. Standard armour plated five-ton trucks. The armour would deflect small arms fire, but it wouldn't' do much good against rockets. "Mount up, you're sitting in the middle." He grinned.

"Yes sir." I opened the truck's front door, and scooted over next to the driver. Hanley got in next to me. I looked over at the driver. He had obviously spent the night on the train. Had hot food, and gotten some decent rest.

"Driver, sound the advance." The driver honked his horn on the Lieutenant's order, and the convoy moved forward. "Listen up Taybor, I'm going to fill you in. Seven trucks, six of which are fully loaded with infantry. In the seventh, we've stored a little surprise for the people of Ishbal. Although no artillery showed up, we pulled a quad 20mm gun off one of the trains. It's mounted under the tarp. If the shit hits the fan, they're going to tear off the tarp, and tear up the opposition. Now, what we have here are 90 men armed with close quarters weapons. Sub machineguns, grenades, swords, and bayonets. We're going to hit the tunnels fast and hard. Back to Bismallah Street, right into the heart of their network. Our objective is to plant charges along the tunnels, and cave in a good 200 meters or so. That will give them something worth digging through until our artillery shows up. Central City has promised us Alchemists, they are en route. The artillery will show up first, and I don't plan on leaving a damned thing for the alchemists to do. The Colonel has reinforced my company, and he has given myself, and yourself the honour of being the vanguard of the entire operation." I was dumbfounded at this point. The Lieutenant had transformed before my eyes, from a stuttering buffoon into a battle hardened commander overnight. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I had changed just as drastically. All of my emotions had left me. I was indifferent to life and death. I was indifferent to Leoni's loss. "One more thing Taybor, if I go down out there, you're in charge. Understand? If I go down, you finish the operation, and you get everybody the hell out of there. By the time we get back from this excursion, Division claims it will have captured at least 10 blocks in each direction from the station. That should be enough of a foothold to pacify the rest of the city if we play our cards right."

I nodded, and lay back in my seat. The tiny view slit the driver was using to see past the armored windows passed out of my line of sight. I closed my eyes, and waited.


	6. Part Five: The Beginning

Part Five: The Beginning

The air was split aside by a loud explosion. The radio in our truck became alive in an instant. "The third truck is hit! The third truck is hit!" The world exploded around me as the radio boomed in my ear. My broken eardrum did me a great service in muffling the deafening sound. Mortar rounds rained from the sky. "The third truck took a direct hit, it is burning. What the hell do we do now sir?" The voice on the radio was extremely panicked. The Lieutenant picked up the radio transmitter.

"Bail out! Find their spotter, pin them down with the cannons! I say again, everybody out of the convoy, take cover in the streets! I want suppressive fire on that spotter!" With this he kicked the truck door open and charged into the street. I turned to the driver as he opened his door. Shell fragments flew into the cab from his side, slicing him apart. A fat jagged piece of steel flew across my right bicep tearing the muscle in half. I screamed out with pain, as I felt the Lieutenant's arm grab the back of my jacket collar. He pulled me from the truck into the street. By now at least fifty men had jumped from the trucks, several had been cut down by shell fragments. "They're on our mortars, they're on our mortars, get down, get down!" Shouted Hanley. He was standing in the street, defying the flying steel, waving his arms in the air. He pulled his sidearm from it's holster and started firing it into the air. "Get your asses up and find that spotter, or we're all fucking dead!" He was contradicting his orders. It mattered little, as few men could hear them over the din of the exploding earth. The tarp came off on the truck carrying the quad 20mm, yet it remained quiet. I found myself hulled down inside a shell crater. Fragments of steel flew over my head at subsonic speeds. Blood spilled into the crater, and it took a few moments before I realized it was mine. My arm was sliced so quickly my brain was only now catching up with what had happened. A soldier fell on top of me, half of his chest missing. I tried to tear him off me but my arm had lost all of it's power.

With that, the mortars ceased. I could still hear the Lieutenant screaming at the top of his lungs. "Second platoon, get the hell up here! Third platoon, secure the perimeter! Get those cannons ready!"

"Second platoon is down sir! They're all dead!" An unknown voice had spoken up. They were in the truck that got hit sir!"

"Then get me fourth platoon! Someone get on a God damned radio, and get support in here. We're about to be over-run! I can smell the red eyed bastards!" The Lieutenant had lost all control of himself. "First platoon, get that fucking spotter!"

I closed my eyes. Unable to even hold my rifle, I was a sitting duck. "Here they come, left flank, second story!" an anonymous soldier yelled. I could hear bullets hitting the concrete, and then spinning back into the air. The 20mm guns opened fire, the four guns cutting every building on the left side to pieces. The prosperous from the tracer rounds lit the wood buildings on fire. Ishbali militiamen could be heard screaming, as the prosperous burned their insides. This was unlike Bismallah Street, in that our technology gave us the upper hand. "We got them running sir!" Shouted another man.

"What in the holy hell are you doing down there Taybor? I told you I wanted you on my ass!" The Lieutenant was looming over me.

"I'm hit sir!" I lifted my bloody arm up in front of him. He glanced at it quickly.

"Everybody's hit! Take your sidearm in your left hand, and get the hell up!" He grabbed my collar again and dragged me to my feet. "You there! Corporal! Get that machinegun set up, everybody brace for an assault!" Hanley threw me down behind the burning truck and knelt beside me. He spoke calmly. "Taybor, stay here, okay? I'm going to find you a medic. We'll get a tourniquet on that arm. You'll be okay. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, I'll be okay." I slumped on the ground and pulled my sidearm from my holster.

"Here they come again sir, right down the center!" A machinegun erupted behind me, firing straight down the street into an approaching crowd. I could hear a loud hiss. I leaned out around the truck in time to see smoke grenades covering the militia's advance. They screamed as they ran towards us, and it was those screams that the machine gunners locked onto. The truck hauling the 20mm gun's cab was blocking the gunner's line of sight to the approaching crowd. It mattered little, as the gun corporal ordered the barrels pointed toward the cab. They fired through it, the explosive shells tearing it to pieces, and flying towards the militia. The Lieutenant finally put his head down as the 20mm rounds exploded in the distance. I could see Hanley turn towards a medic and point in my direction. I heard nothing over the noise of the heavy guns. The medic stood and ran towards me, but fell forward as he was caught in the back of the skull with a bullet. I applied pressure to my wound, knowing that no one more would be sent. The Lieutenant looked towards me as if to say he was sorry. He turned away.

The militias pushed through the few troops holding the front flank, leaping over their own bodies, being cut down by the dozen. The Lieutenant raised his hand and ran backwards towards me, and the burning truck. The entire line followed him as the machineguns ceased, careful not to hit our men. The 20mm cannons continued regardless. The trucks cab gave them almost no visibility. They were quickly running low on ammunition, and the militia assumed as much. The Lieutenant picked me up and threw me on his back; he stumbled slightly but his adrenaline pushed him forward. I still heard nothing but the sound of the cannons. He carried me, blood draining from my arm. It flowed over his blue uniform, which had remained unstained until that point. Mine on the other hand, had turned scarlet. He placed me on the back of the last truck in the convoy, and ordered the few remaining men to join him. The crew on the 20mm guns rigged them to explode, and ran towards the last truck as it exploded, sending steel bits everywhere. Some of the pieces flew through the backs of the gunners. Their comrades dragged them much the same way the Lieutenant had carried me.

The Lieutenant held my left hand, and looked directly into my eyes. "Avenge this Taybor. Avenge this with everything you're worth. And you can consider that a direct order." He turned and shouted at the driver to go. The truck sped down the dusty road, leaving the Lieutenant standing alone on the field. He fell soon after.


	7. Part Six: Off the Field

Part Six: Off the Field

Thankfully a medic made it to the truck. He managed to inject the badly wounded with morphine. I refused it when he offered, my body had already released it's own endorphins. We weren't 10 minutes out of the station. I would be going home soon. Nobody would send one wounded as badly as I was back into the fray. I did my duty. Yet what had I really accomplished? If anything I only cost the life of a medic, the one who dashed towards me on the Lieutenant's order. Maybe the Lieutenant himself would have survived, or our raid even canceled if I had been killed back on Bismallah Street the day before. Had I caused the deaths of a hundred of our men? How many Ishbali militiamen had my deeds killed? What had I done? The law of equivalent trade. I wouldn't be let off so easily. They were all dead, their blood on my hands. I had to go back. I had to go back and try to make up for what I did. What I failed to prevent. I remembered telling Leoni about the brotherhood of war. "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers, for he who sheds his blood with me today shall never be vile." He had asked me what vile meant. I now knew. I knew the meaning of the word as I knew my own name. The man who wrote those lines, he was no warrior. He had never seen the blood, the suffering. The lack of glory. There was nothing glorious about what I had seen, about what I had done. Perhaps some of the acts I had beheld were brave, but they were far from glorious. I had lost a lot of blood, and the medic was busy tending to those more seriously wounded than I. I fell into unconsciousness for the third time.

I woke up in the field hospital at the station again. Only this time, days had come and gone. The beds around me and filled, and emptied, and filled again. Men had come and gone, the battle had raged regardless. Hanley's guns had arrived and the tunnels had been made short work of. Entire blocks had been decimated. A second division had been committed, and our trucks patrolled the streets unhindered. An enemy sniper was met with a platoon. An enemy platoon met with a company. A company met with a brigade. A mortar shell met with a forty-five minute barrage from the heavy 152mm guns. The foothold so dearly needed had been taken. Taken at a great cost, but taken nonetheless. I glanced towards my once severed arm, and found it replaced with fine automail. I tried to move it, but once again I found myself heavily sedated. My neurons were turned off below the neck. I quickly drifted back to sleep.

The next time I awoke I found myself in a private room. My bed had obviously been moved and my body seemed to be working again. I lifted my new arm in front of my face and inspected it. It was made from hard steel, precisely machined. I still felt weak from the loss of blood. Everything was still sinking in. I hadn't yet fully grasped that my arm was missing and replaced with a machine. My new arm moved without conscious thought. It felt as if nothing had changed. My mind was under such stress and trauma from everything that had happened my current state was almost a void. The door opened slowly and a pair of individuals I had never seen before entered.

"Sergeant Taybor, you're awake! We've been waiting for quite some time." Spoke the older of the two. My name is Marco. Doctor Marco. I'm here representing the state. This is Roy Mustang." Mustang nodded to me. I said nothing. "How does your new arm feel?" Marco asked.

"Fine sir, I have to admit everything is still sinking in." I held up the arm as I replied.

"It will likely take some getting used to. You've been through a lot, but if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions." Marco sat on the end of my bed. Before I could answer, Mustang spoke up.

"I have some things to attend to Sergeant Taybor. I will return to speak with you if necessary. Please take care." Mustang strode out of the room and quietly shut the door.

"Please excuse him, he really does wish to speak with you. His questions may be more demanding on your psychological being. He will need you in tip top shape." The doctor spoke in a patronizing way. "I'm mostly concerned with your physical being." He motioned towards my new arm. "It's a new model, it should feel completely natural."

"It feels cold, but other than that I feel little difference." I twisted my new fingers around.

"Your muscle was completely severed. Nothing could be done. You never would have recovered." The doctor seemed as if he was trying to justify his decision.

"What about the others? The convoy?" I already knew the answer, but there was a chance the Lieutenant had survived. Hidden his wounded body with the dead. Waited for the relief column.

"By the time relief showed up, the bodies had been taken away. It took hours for division to break through. If you want information on the actual order of battle, you'll have to ask Mustang." He turned away. "I'll be back to check on you in a couple of hours. You should be well enough to walk by tomorrow. You'll be going back to the line the day after at the latest." The expression on my face drove him from the room. He left quietly, yet he smiled as he closed the door. It was a sincere smile.

Hours passed. Lunch was brought to me, yet I ate little. The IV running into my left arm would nourish me. I thought about many things, and realized up until this point, I had thought little of the enemy. I hadn't cast any hate on them. Maybe I had realized that we were in the wrong. We were fighting for ideals, and they were fighting for their way of life. They would charge head first into 20mm cannons. Into an army of highly trained professional soldiers with the best equipment. I rolled over in my uncomfortable bed. Sleep would not come to me this time. Again, the drugs had worn off and I was left to fend for my own psychological being. I could hear our artillery pounding away. They had been firing for days; the barrels would have been replaced several times. We came here as peacekeepers, and now our guns were targeting this holy city without any inhibition. Women, children, the elderly. It was no longer their concern.


End file.
